


just breathe in death

by ethclectic



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethclectic/pseuds/ethclectic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's more to it than her mama preaches</p>
            </blockquote>





	just breathe in death

**Author's Note:**

> wow okay short fic but i've always loved the hades and persephone myth bc its just so gorgeous and juxtaposition-y. i hope i've done those two some justice

just breathe in death

When she wakes, the sky is rusted blood, inferno swirling overhead, she does not see this, but she imagines it can't possibly be crystal blue what with the daughter of earth gone. She is hidden amongst plush cream silks on a bed too large, sheets undisturbed. She's not violated yet, and it's a thought that has her releasing a breath she never knew her lungs held in.

Her mama says that boys are cruel ill-intentioned creatures who will use and abuse you, her mama says they will love you one second and drop you the next, and Persephone has always wondered whether her mama says all this because of experience or because its true. She thinks of Hermes with his wandering touches or Apollo with his serenading ballads, and wonders if they are monsters under all the shiny gold exterior. She wonders and never really finds out.

She runs with Artemis' maidens, hair whipping like cloth in a wind as she flies across plains and fields, feet barely touching the ground yet adorned with the kisses of dirt. She drinks clear, sweet water from the brook and lets Helios peck her cheeks from under lush, laden trees on sunny days. She dances like willows and smiles like summer, and she doesn't know any other life than her sheltered one.

 

Demeter brings her to one of Olympus' gatherings, she is fifteen and kind of awkward with dirt on her knees and crooked grins. She isn't unknowing of the gods and goddesses, and Hermes is good company, at the very least. He points out who to note and who to avoid, so when she inquires about a dark haired, angular face, he blanks for a while. Then he looks at her and steers her slowly to a more obscure corner, and Persephone wonders of his intentions before he leans towards her and whispers as if its a sin,

"That's Hades, ruler of the Underworld, he comes out even lesser than you, and don't bother exchanging friendship bracelets."

 

She chuckles just a little and comments indifferently, please, I know better than that.

He gives her an appraising look and shrugs,

"You never know."

 

You never know, indeed.

 

She passes whatever food comes her way during the banquet, because though she's young, she's not stupid enough to tie herself here for eternity. Tries to avoid her kidnapper's pleading eyes as she turns her chin up at some of the finest foods she's seen in the flesh.

 

I do not give in, she thinks.

 

She is a maiden, Kore, her mother says, and it wasn't like she had no other suitors, she had her fair bit, what with hair the colour of budding wheat, and eyes the lush greenery. 

 

She's had Apollo sing her beautiful mournful ballads as they lay in open valleys, quick hands weaving flowers into her hair as she hums softly. He's a bit eager of course, probing further up her skirt when she lets him kiss her in a way that makes her burn above him.

She's had Hermes bring her places she's only dreamed of seeing, and tell her all the newest scandals and rumours from Olympus, had him graze his fingers down her back in a way that makes her stomach coil, had him kiss her neck passionately before stealing off with a flower or two. He's both a friend and lover and they're all reckless and daring and irrationally brave in their attempts to pursuit her.

 

Which is why she's horribly confused when Hades does none of the above. He does not let his hands wander anywhere, the only place where his cold flesh grazed her is when he pulls out her chair, and his fingers just barely touch the bottom of her neck. He barely even touched her when he swept her into the earth, just a flurry of robes as he lifted her on board and darkness and then a gentle if gruff "I bid you good morning, Lady Persephone," and a "I bid you good night, Lady Persephone."

 

Mind boggling.

 

She likes wandering in the Asphodel Meadows, likes conversing with the quiet, compassionate shades that drift there as she grows white buds beneath her bare feet. She likes exploring the Elysian Fields as she listens enchanted to the tragic and magnificent stories of the heroes there, likes dancing with the eternal nymphs as they weave crowns befitting a daughter of earth.

But perhaps what she likes most is learning the interesting and horrid tales of the damned in Tartarus. It's oddly fascinating, because what would a girl of springtime enjoy in the deepest darkest cruelest areas of Hell. For one, she believes it to be reflective of human more so than the great deeds of the others, the innate cruelty of the mortals is something that interests her so.

 

Hades finds her strolling in Tartarus one day, and leaves her be, which is something she's come to appreciate of him, as he respects her views and treats her as an equal, not as some object to be desired like much of Olympus.

 

She pets Cerberus, who turns out to be a huge baby when succumbing to the lure of adoration, tongue flopping and belly up as Hades chides from the sidelines, "Cerberus you're supposed to guard the gates, not be a softie in the face of affection." And she laughs, rings in the echos of hell and she figured that if this is hell, then by all means it's great.

 

It's all just one big adventure, even if some nights she cries for her mama, for the sun.

 

She's still not sure how she's come to like him, the sharp, chiseled and groomed features, the small gestures of love like the asphodels that adorn her room, the way he listens to her rambles and never tries to shift the attention, or the way he ponders over his thoughts before replying her like an adult. It's infuriating sometimes, when people still talked to her like she was little Kore, a child, but he respects and understands her. It's something that most men didn't lavish her with, and she is all the more grateful.

 

Perhaps that is why she eats the seeds. For a choice, for a chance.

 

They're walking on the banks of River Styx, and as she waves a greeting to Charon, they hear the beating of wings. Hades' face falls just a little and Persephone whips around quick as a bullet.

"Hermes," she cries out and tackles her brother-lover in a hug, smells fresh sun and grass for the first time in months as her brain scrambles to memorise the scents. It's light and pleasant but somehow she smells something else thats sharp and crisply cold, something unfamiliar.

 

"Calm down, cousin," he chuckles jovially as he grazes a knuckle over her cheek for a little too long, lingering in the heat, before he turns, "Greetings, Uncle, and apologies, for Zeus has it decreed that you are to return Persephone to her mother, for the earth is becoming barren, life is dying out, and it's all due to Demeter's wrath." He bows just a little then and continues,  
"I trust Persephone hasn't eaten any foods of the Underworld?"

 

She hasn't and she is still dumbstruck about the sudden notion that she is rescued. From what she understands, her mama has wreaked havoc upon the world, and it's going to pull them apart. Shocked and scared she turns to face her husband, eyes wide and searching, mouth bitten red, before she is enveloped in a hug that smelled pleasantly of asphodels and dog and death itself.

 

Hermes shuffles awkwardly at the side, before

"You know what, I'll wait outside if you guys want to say goodbye," and hightails his way out of there. What a loser.

 

 

Later as she gathers her meagre possessions and weaves asphodel into her hair, she spies a pomegranate lying innocently in a fruit bowl.

 

She walks out of hell with her head held high and the stain of red on her lips as she leaves behind a loving husband and 8 pomegranate seeds.

Hermes takes one look at her lips and laughs gloriously and uneasily, before she joins in and rejoices with the rest of the world.

 

It's nice, this love.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and do leave a comment or note


End file.
